


Run, Bunny, Run

by Croik



Category: Until Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Extra Treat, M/M, ToT: Chocolate Box, ToT: Monster Mash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-20 03:51:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8235112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Croik/pseuds/Croik
Summary: When Josh remembered nothing else, he still remembered Chris.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nan/gifts).



It was the Washingtons' annual Halloween Party. It might as well have been Labor Day, or The 4th of July, or graduation, because as far as Josh was concerned, the setup was always the same: him getting drunk while he watched Chris and Ashley blush at each other all night. Granted, it was frustratingly adorable, though just as adorably frustrating. Sometimes he felt like they'd been at it for years, and maybe they had. They were wearing _themed_ costumes for Christ's sake: Wonderland's Alice and White Rabbit. Oh how he wished they would get on with it or give it a rest, just for a change of pace.

Finally, Ashley headed into the dance mosh of the living room, and because she hadn't written Chris a formal invitation, apparently, he stayed behind. Josh gulped down the rest of his beer—how many was that now?—and headed over to offer his wingman best.

"If it's meant to happen, it'll happen," Chris said, shrugging, like usual. He looked so damn hopeful and disappointed at once, it was hard to watch. "I mean, what do I even say?"

"You could try, maybe, the truth?" suggested Josh with eyebrows raised. "It's super easy. Here, I'll show you."

Later, he would blame the booze. It was was definitely alcohol's fault that he was suddenly all up in Chris's personal space, meeting his gaze seriously from under the wide brim of his top hat. "You look her in the eye," he said, and watching Chris grow tense beneath the intensity of his stare made his chest feel tight, too. "And you say, 'Hey. I like you. I've liked you for a long time."

Chris blinked. He looked a little bit too much like the skittish forest creature he was dressed as, and the thought that he might make a run for it made Josh want to grab him before he could get far. "Just that easy, huh?" he asked, hushed as if they were sharing secrets.

"Yeah," said Josh, just as quietly, because maybe they were. "Simple, ain't it?" Maybe that's why his heart was suddenly pounding, and he really _really_ couldn't stand the thought of Chris escaping then. Before he knew what he was doing, he'd sunk his fingers in the ruffled collar of Chris' outfit and was reeling him in. Chris must have been pretty drunk by then, too, because he allowed it.

They weren't together long enough for it to really count as a kiss. Josh felt the barest scrape of Chris' wide lips over his, warm and plush just how he'd always imagined they would be. He felt a rush of hot breath against his cheeks and he ached, a pulse of mania in his veins. _Finally_ , every cell in his body cried, finally, he knew what it tasted like. But then the brim of his hat tipped, knocking Chris' glasses askew, and Chris lurched back to keep them from falling.

"Damn, man," Chris said, laughing, as he fumbled his glasses back into place. He was bright red, and even if Josh should have been roiling with embarrassment and disappointment, that breathless grin still made everything okay. "You are _wasted_."

Josh laughed, too. He had to. "Naw." He tipped his hat back up. "I'm just a little _mad_." That made Chris laugh some more, so he added, "Aren't we supposed to be gay dads to a mouse anyway?"

"You're thinking of the March Hare," said Chris, smoothing down his collar. "I'm the _rabbit_."

"Whatever, cottontail." He gave Chris a smack on the ass, just because he still had the excuse, and then slung his arm around his shoulders. "Come on, let's go bother Mike," he said, and Chris let himself be dragged along.

So, honesty. Not foolproof. But a start.

***

By the time Josh made it above ground, his stomach was howling. He needed to feed—he _needed_ it, with a desperation that broke beyond the definitions of the word. Wild and driven, he raced through the snow-laden woods in search of prey. Distantly he remembered that somewhere near, there were bodies draped in fresh meat. Their voices echoed at the edges of his ragged ears and he could smell their sweat, their fear. Yes, their fear—that was what he'd wanted, wasn't it? Not their blood, but their shock and awe, their humility. Their forgiveness.

No—no, their blood, their bones. He thirsted for it— _he had to have it!_

Josh followed a roar of heat into the clearing. There he found them: his banquet, all lined up and waiting. With a snarl he charged into their ranks and the morsels fled, squealing like pigs in a pen. Watching them scamper only fueled the instinct raging through his twisted limbs and he gave chase, focusing all his anguished hunger on the one last to run. But it did run—oh yes, it ran, it tried to. He chased it down. He leapt, he caught it, he dragged it to the ground. Its hide was thick beneath his grasping hands, too bulky to be easily shed, and Josh was too hungry to allow for any delay. So he rolled his meal onto its back, exposing its uncovered face. Soft cheeks and eyeballs to pop—he couldn't contain his excitement, and he lunged.

Josh felt hot breath steam across his face. It slipped through the gaps in his crooked teeth and brushed a familiar taste against his tongue. What remained of his mangled lips crushed against a parted mouth panting in fear, and suddenly the body drawn tight beneath resonated with familiarity. It was like a bell being struck behind his ribs. He stopped, breathing the human in. Watching the sweat bead down his forehead—tasting him at the back of his throat. A shudder worked through him, and still pressed close, he uttered, "Chris?"

He didn't know what that word meant—wasn't entirely sure what words _were_. But the meat—the Chris—flinched beneath his hands and then reached up, carefully, to touch his freezing neck. "Y-Yeah," he said, hesitantly easing him back. "It's me, Josh. It's Chris. You know me, right?"

Josh allowed himself to be prodded, and finally sat up. He blinked around at the fireball clearing, the figures huddling in the snow not far off, and back to the Chris still pinned beneath him. Everything smeared together and he thought his brain might leak out, melting just like the ice off the trees. But then Chris was sitting up, too, wrapping him in shaky arms.

"It's okay," he said as the others crept closer. "You're okay—you'll be okay, Josh. It's us—you're safe now."

Josh didn't know what any of that meant, either, but he let Chris draw him in. He let the hunger ebb away deep into the pit of his stomach and replaced it with the warmth of Chris' neck against his forehead. It was easier than he thought it would be, letting it go. Had it always been so easy?

He sagged into Chris' arms, leaning on him until help arrived.


End file.
